I was there the day the old schoolhouse burned down
Saw smoke in the distance so I hurried over to see
A small crowd had gathered, they were standing around
All of us in shock, we were mentally taking stock,
Quiet as could be....
All kinds of things going up in a history of smoke
Acrid breath, no one could leave, nailed to the spot
Tumbling down came the walls and still nobody spoke
Some shed a tear or two, or milled around as if lost,
Emotions burning hot...
School was where I learned to develop fairytale dreams
Teachers taught marvelous things and opened my mind
I spent twelve years in that old building and it seems
I had access to the world and all its wonders, leaving
The real world behind....
Memories flew around in cinders, they were everywhere
Not being lost, just looking for places to take hold
I had stored all my memories away, they're still there
Like those in books, they can be shared, or borrowed,
But never bought or sold...
